


Wouldn't Be Proper

by tolstayas



Category: The Importance of Being Earnest - Wilde
Genre: F/F, and apparently a farcial comedy without any real serious content, and compartmentalizing different aspects of your personality, and pretending to be someone you aren't, and the real romance of the play is between cecily and gwendolen. send tweet, anyway.... cecily/algernon and gwendolen/jack are both lavender marriages, bur that actually has all these undertones of like....., friends to enemies to friends to lovers...... when will your otp ever, its about the double language of theatre...... its about the Gestures......, self concealment and living a life of lies, to be accepted by someone whose love for you is entirely conditional, was just thinking about this play that's driven by witty dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 04:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolstayas/pseuds/tolstayas
Summary: Cecily can be so altruistic sometimes. Gwendolen has been reckless in the pursuit of truth. There are many things a woman of high standing should never admit to. There are many ways to say that which cannot be said.





	Wouldn't Be Proper

_Scene: Like the beginning of Act III. Morning-room at the Manor House, Cecily and Gwendolen at the window. _

GWENDOLEN. You know, I felt from the first that I liked you more than I could say. And now we are to be sisters! Isn't it a wonderful thing to have been right all along?

CECILY, _gloomily_. I suppose it must be.

GWENDOLEN. Oh, dear, you look so morbidly! Is it something I said? I am so used to saying cruel things at every opportunity, I'm afraid one must have slipped out quite accidentally.

CECILY. No, dearest Gwendolen, nothing you say could ever hurt me. I know you do not mean a word of it.

GWENDOLEN. Why, of course not. How unsuitable would it be if people were to go around saying what they meant? All the mystery of life would be quite done away with. But tell me what's wrong.

CECILY. Oh, well, I suppose it wouldn't be right to keep secrets from my own sister-in-law. Only it's rather embarassing. You'll have to promise not to repeat it.

GWENDOLEN. I don't know if I could do that. But I will promise not to tell it to groups of more than three, or when there are men around.

CECILY, _pensive_. That will do.

GWENDOLEN. So?

CECILY. The truth is, I am terribly jealous.

GWENDOLEN. Oh, I won't hear of it! Imagine being engaged and jealous! You must save it until you've been married at least a week. Otherwise you might not have the strength left over to be jealous when it's most necessary.

CECILY. Not on account of him, of course. You take me for a very simple sort of girl, which I would resent if you were not my almost-sister-in-law. I'm jealous of you.

GWENDOLEN. Of me!

CECILY. You know very well that you are the only woman I have ever met to rival my frivolous and stubborn nature. You have read my diary with as much attention as I have yours, and I know that we are in agreement on the name of Ernest. I consented to marry Algernon, of course, because of his wonderfully bad character, and because he loved me so terribly much. I felt it was my duty to save him. You know that I can be so altruistic sometimes, it's a dreadful habit I have. In any case, I love him. But I am still so upset about his name. It seems you got the good end of the draw, and it's just awful to watch someone else win, especially your own sister. Why are you laughing? You know it's not at all becoming to laugh in public, and even less so in private.

GWENDOLEN. My dearest Cecily! If you only knew!

CECILY. I do not make it a habit to know things. I content myself with feeling them instinctively.

GWENDOLEN. That is very reasonable. It is so taxing to know anything. Still, I feel there is something you should be aware of.

CECILY. I trust your judgement in the matter.

GWENDOLEN. His name is John.

CECILY. Whose name?

GWENDOLEN. Ern - well, Jo - ah, my fiancé's name. It isn't Ernest. It's John.

CECILY. Did he confess as much to you? How cruel of him. No lady should be forced to know the truth like that.

GWENDOLEN. Of course not. He would never have done something like that to me, he loves me far too much. I had to read it in the Army Lists myself.

CECILY. Don't tell me you actually read those beastly things!

GWENDOLEN. Only the part with his name in it, don't you worry. And I read your diary straight after, to clear my mind. Don't look so fearfully! I know that I have been reckless in the pursuit of truth, but it was not so dreadful as that.

CECILY. His name really is John!

GWENDOLEN. Yes.

CECILY, _embracing her momentarily_. My deepest condolences. It must be a terrible disappointment to you.

GWENDOLEN. I had always suspected something of the kind, to be quite frank with you. He hasn't the face for a name like Ernest.

CECILY. You're quite right. And, now that you mention it, neither has my Algy. It simply wouldn't be proper of him to be called Ernest, looking like that.

GWENDOLEN. Absolutely not. An Ernest should always have fair hair.

CECILY. Like mine.

GWENDOLEN, _twining her fingers in Cecily's hair, as if to examine it more closely_. Precisely.

CECILY, _looking up at her with a strange intensity_. And bright eyes.

GWENDOLEN. Like mine.

CECILY. Yes, just like that. And your straight nose.

GWENDOLEN. And full lips like yours, too.

_At this, the two women press their foreheads together, then at length their lips. They remain very still, with their arms around each other, for a long and perfect moment. There is a fragile light coming in through the window, as if a piece of early dawn has fallen by accident into the middle of the afternoon. The moment passes, and a stronger light comes out._

CECILY,_ a little breathlessly_. Well, I'm glad we're in agreement.

GWENDOLEN. Yes. I'm perfectly happy.

CECILY. Of course you are. One must be happy when one is engaged. I have never felt happier than I do right this minute. Isn't that strange?

GWENDOLEN. I suppose it's all this falling in love. Or perhaps it's something else entirely.

CECILY. I always knew I could trust you not to be direct with me.

GWENDOLEN. Dearest, you can trust me with anything.

CECILY, _blushing_. How forward of you.

GWENDOLEN. I hope you don't mind.

CECILY. Not at all. I would hate it if you were shy.

GWENDOLEN, _thoughtfully_. Then it's all perfect, isn't it?

_Calmly and deliberately, CECILY takes GWENDOLEN's hand in hers. There is something almost holy about the gesture._

CECILY. Yes. I suppose it rather is.


End file.
